Ocean Literacy
Time to Normalize Seafood as Part of Our Shared Wildlife
This concept is nothing new, but it is high time we officially normalize it. Years ago in the early 2000s, during a brown bag session at Conservation International, I overheard a comment that caught my attention. These lunchtime sessions, where colleagues shared their work informally, were typically casual, and I was only half-listening. But between daydreams, heard someone refer to seafood as wildlife, and that single word choice jolted me. Like most people, I had until that point, always viewed seafood as a commodity- something extracted from the ocean, inherently abundant and endlessly available. But that comment nudged me to consider a different perspective. History, society and profit margins have unintentionally conditioned us to overlook the ocean’s inhabitants as wildlife, ignoring the complexity of their ecosystems and the impact of our actions on their survival? Cod, sardines, and tuna, in the eyes of the consumer, went the same way as iron, coal, and timber- resources to be extracted, rather than wildlife to be preserved.
In many ways, this shift in perspective is similar to other changes already happening in the conservation community. Across various groups and discussions, conservationists have gradually stopped referring to “the world’s oceans” and instead talk about “the ocean. You might not have even noticed that in 2009, World Oceans Day quietly changed to World Ocean Day to emphasize the interconnectedness of the global ocean system. This small word choice carries a profound message: though there are distinct oceans on a map, the ocean is one interconnected system, affected by the same global issues. By thinking of it as a singular entity, we start to appreciate that the health of one region affects the whole. As the terminology slowly makes its way mainstream, so does a changed perspective. Similarly, if we make the move to normalize seafood as wildlife, we could foster a deeper respect for marine life and influence the way we conserve and protect it.

To understand why this reframing matters, we need to start with definitions. Traditionally, wildlife refers to undomesticated animals that live in their natural habitats- wolves, bears, tigers, and so on. Ask your neighbor to name three examples of wildlife and I’ll bet you a dollar they answer one of those animals. These species symbolize the untamed world, and we have long rallied to protect them through legislation and public campaigns. Chickens and cows, however, penned in farms and served at the dinner table, are far from appearing in a NATURE documentary. Seafood, though caught in the wild, is defined as fish and shellfish intended for human consumption. This label places marine animals in a different category, often viewed through the lens of supply and demand rather than conservation.
This distinction may seem arbitrary, but it’s significant. We don’t refer to other wild animals primarily by their culinary potential; no one talks about tigers, wolves, or eagles as “landfood.” So why do we treat fish, shrimp, and octopus as consumables rather than as integral components of their ecosystems? This divide is likely rooted in our perception of abundance. Marine mammals, like seals or orcas, are typically seen as wildlife, worthy of conservation efforts. But tuna, salmon, grouper, and shrimp are abundant in our minds- a seemingly endless resource for the taking. Yet, these species are no less wild, no less integral to ocean ecosystems, than the iconic animals we associate with wilderness on land.
Rethinking seafood as wildlife isn’t about changing minds about what people should or shouldn’t eat. Rather, it’s about broadening the conversation and examining our assumptions. I Knowledge is power, and consumers, policymakers, and conservationists alike benefit from a fuller understanding of what’s at stake. If we began to see tuna as the ocean’s equivalent of wolves or grouper as akin to grizzly bears, would the general consumer approach marine conservation differently? Would we be more open to supporting robust marine protected areas and sustainable fishing practices?
Many people are uneasy about consuming animals that society has deemed precious or emblematic of the wild. For example, eating a bald eagle would be unthinkable to most, and using bear bile for medicinal purposes is widely controversial. If people were to view fish in the same light, as fellow creatures of the wild, it might lead to a shift in choices, both in consumption and in conservation. Similarly, if people who shudder at the thought of eating a wild cat were to view grouper or octopus through the same lens, they might pause and reconsider.
This is nothing impossible- we’ve been here before. For centuries, whale blubber was treated purely as a commodity, fueling the lamps of homes across the globe and powering the engines of a growing industrial society. The oil derived from this blubber, extracted from the thick layers of fat beneath a whale’s skin, became so prized that entire species of whales were driven to the brink of extinction. Whaling fleets scoured the oceans in search of this valuable resource, killing thousands upon thousands of whales to meet the relentless demand for oil to light streets, lubricate machinery, and even make soap and cosmetics. However, as society progressed and came to understand whales not as resources but as intelligent, social, and majestic creatures- integral to marine ecosystems and deserving of respect- a profound shift took place. Whales were no longer seen as fuel or raw material but as wildlife, invaluable for their role in the natural world. With this change in perspective, whaling was banned in many parts of the world, and new laws protected these animals, fostering a global effort to restore whale populations. Today, not even the most nostalgic person would consider lighting a whale oil lamp for tradition’s sake, and this evolution in understanding reflects how our values can shift dramatically once we recognize that some things should be preserved, not consumed.
The science of conservation underscores that the ocean is in crisis. Overfishing, pollution, climate change, and habitat destruction are devastating marine biodiversity. But because fish and shellfish are seen as commodities rather than part of our wildlife heritage, conservation policies often fall short of what’s needed. When land animals face population declines, we often act swiftly to protect them. Extending that same concern to marine life could have a transformative impact on conservation policy. Normalizing fish as wildlife would allow us to view marine protected areas not merely as regulatory zones but as havens for vital, wild creatures.
This rebrand could also lend new weight to the concept of marine protected areas. Terrestrial protected areas serve to conserve wildlife in part by creating spaces where they can live free from exploitation. When fish and other marine animals are seen as wildlife, it becomes easier to advocate for similar protections in the ocean. The debate then shifts from simply regulating a food source to preserving an essential part of the natural world.
Suggesting that we normalize seafood as wildlife doesn’t mean launching a campaign or advocating for dietary changes. Instead, it’s a quiet nudge, a subtle reframing that could reshape the conversation over time. Small shifts in language can have lasting impacts on how we think, act, and legislate. This isn’t about making moral judgments on what people eat; it’s about helping people see the ocean’s creatures with fresh eyes, as part of our shared wildlife heritage.
Just as our colleagues in conservation have redefined the “ocean” as one interconnected system, we can slowly see the impacts of our language ripple across the globe. Perhaps by collectively and consistently recognizing fish, shellfish, and marine life as wildlife, we can help foster a more unified approach to ocean conservation- one that sees marine life not as commodities to be taken but as wild species to be protected, respected, and preserved. After all, reframing how we talk about the ocean and its inhabitants may be one of the simplest, most powerful conservation tools we have.
Giacomo Abrusci, Executive Director, SEVENSEAS Media
Issue 130 - March2026
Meet Jacqueline Rosa, the March Cover Conservationist

Meet The Cover Conservationist is a recurring SEVENSEAS feature that spotlights inspiring and influential people working at the forefront of ocean conservation.
Beyond the research papers, campaigns, and headlines, this series offers a more personal look at the people behind the work, exploring what drives them, challenges them, and keeps them hopeful for the future of our ocean. If there’s a conservationist you’d love to see featured on a future cover, we invite you to submit a short nomination (around 250 words) to info@sevenseasmedia.org. We receive many outstanding submissions, and while not all can be selected for publication, each is carefully considered.
Below you’ll find the merciless interrogation designed to give readers insight into our conservationist’s professional journey and the human side of life in ocean conservation. We only ask fearlessly candid, no-holds-barred questions, so get ready for a brutally honest, nail-biting interview.
1. To get our readers acquainted, why don’t you tell us just a little about yourself, what motivates you and what you are working on.
Jacqueline: I’m a second-year master’s degree student in the University of Rhode Island’s Graduate School of Oceanography. My research focuses on water quality and aquaculture, specifically investigating how water quality and gear type affect oyster growth in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island. This work is driven by my interest to collaborate with oyster farmers and conduct research that benefits the aquaculture industry.
2. What was the moment or influence that first pulled you toward ocean conservation? Tell us about that.
Jacqueline: During college, I spent a summer along the coast of Maine assisting with lobster and scallop research projects. That experience showed me how closely science, industry, and coastal communities are connected. Working on the waterfront and interacting directly with fishermen helped me see that ocean conservation isn’t just about ecosystems; it’s also about supporting the people and livelihoods that depend on them.
3. Was there a specific place, species, experience, mentor, job, or challenge that shaped your career path?
Jacqueline: My first job after earning my bachelor’s degree was on Catalina Island, California, where I worked as a marine science instructor. It was a dynamic, adventurous, and rewarding job, one that continues to impact me today. I learned how to be an educator, communicate science, adapt quickly, and find the fun in challenging moments.
4. How do science and storytelling intersect in your work?
Jacqueline: The water quality dataset from my project helps oyster farmers understand seasonal trends in Narragansett Bay. By pairing quantitative data with observations from oyster farmers, we can tell a more complete story about what works, guide future research, and strengthen Rhode Island’s aquaculture industry through collaboration.
5. What’s one misconception people often have about your field?
Jacqueline: One common misconception people have about oceanography is that it entails just being out on a boat conducting field work. A lot of the work happens behind a computer, analyzing data, writing, securing funding, and collaborating across disciplines. It’s an ever-changing balance of field, lab, and desk work.
6. What part of your work feels most urgent today?
Jacqueline: Continued collaboration feels especially urgent, specifically uplifting the voices of industry members, such as oyster farmers, to identify research questions that are most relevant and impactful.
7. What achievement are you most proud of, even if few people know about it?
Jacqueline: I decided to apply to graduate school nine years after earning my undergraduate degree. Leaving the workforce and returning to student life was a big shift, and I’m proud to have taken that step. While I’m older than many of my peers, I wouldn’t change my timeline. Professional (and personal) growth isn’t linear, and there are infinite ways to get to where you want to go.
8. What keeps you going when conservation feels overwhelming?
Jacqueline: Being in graduate school, I’m surrounded by a large community of people who are deeply motivated. Being surrounded by that energy and commitment helps me stay focused, and reminds me that change is possible, even when progress feels slow.
9. What’s something the public rarely sees about how conservation really works?
Jacqueline: One thing the public rarely sees is just how complex and unpredictable conservation science can be. There are countless variables, including weather, mechanical issues, staffing, and funding, that we navigate every day. Carrying out research often means constantly adjusting and getting creative.
10. What’s one hard truth about ocean conservation we need to face?
Jacqueline: Climate change and environmental stressors disproportionately impact marginalized and coastal communities. Their voices and needs are often overlooked, yet they are on the frontlines of these challenges. Effective conservation requires listening to these communities, gathering their perspectives, and developing real solutions that will protect future generations.
11. What advice would you give your younger self entering this field?
Jacqueline: Everyone around you has something to teach you. Take the time to listen, ask questions, and build genuine connections.
12. Where do you realistically hope your work will be in 5 to 10 years?
Jacqueline: While my master’s research is ending, I hope that future research in Rhode Island continues to expand and support sustainable aquaculture. I’d love to see more state funding for projects that benefit both oysters and kelp, stronger partnerships between researchers and industry, and initiatives such as an experimental aquaculture farm.
13. What innovation excites you most in ocean conservation?
Jacqueline: I’m excited to see how aquaculture can become more “climate-ready.” For example, breeding or selecting oyster strains that are resilient to warming waters and ocean acidification could help farmers adapt to changing conditions.
14. Ocean sunrise or sunset? Any reason why?
Jacqueline: Sunrise, preferably viewed from a surfboard.
15. If you could be any marine animal, what would you be?
Jacqueline: Humpback whale. You can’t beat the ability to echolocate.
16. Coffee or tea (or what else?) in the field?
Jacqueline: Matcha latte.
17. Most unexpected or interesting place your work has taken you?
Jacqueline: I led marine conservation programs in the Dominican Republic for a summer. We partnered with local nonprofits on coral and mangrove restoration. It was interesting to see conservation happening in a different context. I loved learning about different approaches and realizing how much we can share and learn from one another across communities and countries.
18. One book, film, or documentary everyone should experience?
Jacqueline: Blue Planet 1 and 2.
19. What does a perfect day off look like?
Jacqueline: A bike ride to the beach, body surfing in warm summer waves, and low tide sea glass hunting.
20. One word you associate with the future of the ocean?
Jacqueline: Collaboration.
Issue 130 - March2026
Beneath the War Zone, the Persian Gulf’s Marine Ecosystem Faces Its Next Great Test
Editor’s Note: Why We Are Featuring Iran Now
Iran is once again dominating headlines.
From widespread public demonstrations that surged across Iran in late 2025 into early this year, to the current escalation and the breaking of war, the country is being discussed globally in the context of politics, conflict, and human suffering. The loss of life and instability unfolding are real and devastating. Nothing in this feature is intended to diminish that reality.
But there is something else that often goes unspoken.
For years, inside and outside of environmental circles, people have quietly asked me a question. Sometimes with curiosity. Sometimes with hesitation. Sometimes almost with guilt.
“What is actually there?”
They were referring to biodiversity.
In today’s world, there is pressure to already know. When the breadth of human knowledge appears to sit at our fingertips, asking basic questions can feel uncomfortable. If a place overlaps with your professional field or your moral concern, you are expected to understand it fully.
Curiosity, however, should never carry shame.
At SEVENSEAS Media, we see questions as bridges. When a region becomes defined only by conflict, it becomes even more important to remember that it is also defined by landscapes, species, ecosystems, culture, and people who have lived in relationship with nature for millennia.
Iran is not only a geopolitical flashpoint. It is a country of vast mountain ranges, ancient forests, wetlands, deserts, coral communities, migratory flyways, and one of the most strategically significant marine corridors in the world. It sits at the intersection of terrestrial and marine biodiversity, connecting ecosystems across Central Asia, the Caucasus, the Arabian Peninsula, and the Indian Ocean.
It is home to coastal communities whose fishing traditions stretch back centuries, to wetlands that host migratory birds crossing continents, and to marine systems that sustain life far beyond their shorelines.
This feature has been in development for some time. In light of current events, we believe it is important to move forward thoughtfully and with care.
Education is not a distraction from suffering. It is part of long term resilience.
At SEVENSEAS Media, we promote education and peace across cultures and living in harmony with nature. We believe that understanding biodiversity can humanize places that are otherwise reduced to headlines. Conservation, at its best, transcends politics and builds shared responsibility for the natural world.
In the articles that follow, we explore the geography of Iran, its terrestrial biodiversity, its migratory importance, and its ocean and coastal ecosystems. We touch on traditional fishing cultures, current pressures, conservation challenges, and the organizations working to protect what remains.
As always, we are not here to simplify complexity. We are here to make space for informed curiosity and careful understanding.
In moments of conflict, it can feel easier to look away. We choose instead to look closer, and to recognize that ecological systems persist regardless of political borders.
This story is developing rapidly. Details may shift as the situation evolves. Last verified: March 3, 2026.

The headlines are dominated by oil prices, geopolitical brinkmanship, and military escalation. But below the waterline of the Persian Gulf, a quieter catastrophe is taking shape, one that will outlast any ceasefire.
The Persian Gulf is not the barren petrochemical corridor that its reputation might suggest. It is a semi-enclosed sea of roughly 241,000 square kilometres, averaging just 35 metres in depth, connected to the wider Indian Ocean only through the 56-kilometre-wide Strait of Hormuz. Within this shallow, hypersaline basin lives a marine community that has adapted to conditions most ocean species could not survive: summer surface temperatures regularly exceeding 35°C, salinity levels above 45 PSU, and winter cooling that can plunge below 18°C. The organisms that thrive here are not merely surviving. They are demonstrating resilience strategies that climate scientists around the world are studying with increasing urgency.
Approximately 60 species of reef-building coral have been documented in the Gulf, including the endemic Acropora arabensis, found nowhere else on Earth. These corals withstand water temperatures of up to 36°C, well beyond the 32°C threshold that triggers bleaching in most tropical reefs. Researchers have increasingly turned to Persian Gulf coral populations as living laboratories for understanding how reef organisms might adapt to a warming planet. The Gulf also supports the world’s second-largest population of dugongs, after northern Australia, with an estimated 7,500 individuals grazing on seagrass beds along the coasts of Qatar, Bahrain, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia. Over 700 species of fish, populations of hawksbill and green sea turtles, Indo-Pacific humpback dolphins, whale sharks, and migratory seabird colonies all depend on this ecosystem.
The Immediate Threats
The environmental risks now facing this ecosystem are layered and compounding.
Oil contamination is the most visible concern. At least three commercial tankers have been struck by projectiles, with one confirmed ablaze and producing thick plumes of black smoke near Omani waters. A burning tanker does not simply release crude oil; it generates a toxic cocktail of partially combusted hydrocarbons, heavy metals, and particulate matter that settles across surrounding waters. With more than 150 laden tankers now anchored in open Gulf waters, the risk of collision, grounding, or further military targeting grows with each passing day. The shallow depth of the Gulf, averaging just 36 metres, means that spilled oil reaches the seafloor and coastal habitats far more quickly than in open ocean environments.
The sinking of at least nine Iranian warships introduces a different category of pollution. Sunken military vessels carry bunker fuel, hydraulic oils, lubricants, and munitions, all of which corrode and leach into surrounding waters over years and decades. A 2023 IUCN brief estimated that globally, over 8,500 shipwrecks are at risk of leaking approximately six billion gallons of oil. The Persian Gulf’s warm, shallow conditions accelerate corrosion, meaning these newly sunken warships could begin releasing contaminants faster than wrecks in colder, deeper waters.
Underwater noise pollution from military operations, including sonar, detonations, and sustained engine activity from hundreds of anchored vessels, adds biological stress. Marine mammals such as dugongs and dolphins rely on acoustic communication for feeding, mating, and navigation. Prolonged noise disruption can displace populations from critical habitats, with consequences that persist long after the sound stops.
Reports of potential mine-laying by Iranian forces introduce yet another dimension. Naval mines are indiscriminate by design; they threaten not only vessels but also the seabed itself, disturbing sediment and destroying benthic habitats when detonated. GPS jamming, confirmed across the region, increases the likelihood of navigational accidents among the hundreds of ships now attempting to shelter in place.
History’s Warning
The Persian Gulf carries the scars of previous conflicts. During the 1991 Gulf War, an estimated 4 to 11 million barrels of crude oil were deliberately released into its waters, covering more than 600 kilometres of Saudi coastline. Research conducted by Jacqueline Michel in 2010 found that oil had penetrated up to 50 centimetres into Gulf sediments and remained detectable 12 years after the spill. A 2017 study by Joydas et al. found “alarming levels” of hydrocarbons persisting in secluded bay areas more than 25 years later. While fish and bird populations showed encouraging recovery by 1994, the long-term contamination of sediments and coastal habitats tells a more complicated story.
The Gulf ecosystem did recover from 1991, a testament to its remarkable resilience. But it recovered into a world with fewer stressors. Today, the same ecosystem faces compounding pressures from coastal development, desalination plant discharge, climate-driven temperature extremes, and chronic oil pollution from routine shipping. A 2024 review published in Marine Pollution Bulletin found that 63.5% of the Gulf’s key habitats and species remain “data-deficient,” while 21.2% show documented decline. The margin for absorbing another major environmental shock has narrowed considerably.
What Comes Next
The environmental consequences of this crisis will not be determined by the conflict’s duration alone, but by what happens when it ends. After 1991, clean-up efforts focused almost exclusively on oil recovery from the water’s surface, while coastal habitats were largely neglected. If history offers any instruction, it is that the environmental response must begin alongside the military and diplomatic response, not after it.
International bodies, including the Regional Organization for the Protection of the Marine Environment (ROPME) and the International Maritime Organization, will need to coordinate rapid environmental assessment once conditions allow. Monitoring of coral communities, seagrass beds, and dugong populations should be prioritized, alongside sediment sampling near tanker anchorage sites and sunken vessel locations.
The Persian Gulf’s marine life has survived environmental extremes that would have destroyed ecosystems elsewhere. It has endured the largest deliberate oil spill in history and emerged, battered but functional. Whether it can absorb another round of military trauma on top of everything the 21st century has already thrown at it is a question that marine scientists are watching with deep concern, and one that the rest of us should be paying attention to as well.
Written by: Junior Thanong Aiamkhophueng
Attribution: This article draws on marine biodiversity research published in Marine Pollution Bulletin (2024) on habitat status across the Persian Gulf; peer-reviewed ecological analysis from PMC on critical research needs for Gulf coral reef ecosystems (Feary et al., 2014); EBSCO Research’s overview of the Persian Gulf ecosystem including dugong populations and endemic coral species; the IUCN’s 2023 issues brief on marine pollution from sunken vessels; ScienceDirect review of habitat and organism status across six Gulf countries; gCaptain and Windward Maritime Intelligence reporting on vessel attacks and anchorage patterns; France 24 and Al Jazeera coverage of mine-laying risks and GPS jamming; historical oil spill research by Jacqueline Michel (2010) on sediment penetration and Joydas et al. (2017) on long-term hydrocarbon persistence; CNN’s 2010 retrospective on 1991 Gulf War oil spill recovery; Wikipedia’s compiled entry on the Gulf War oil spill; and Maritime Education’s profile of Persian Gulf marine habitats and biodiversity. Persian Gulf coral reef satellite image by NASA Earth Observatory. For further reading, visit the IUCN Marine Programme, the Regional Organization for the Protection of the Marine Environment (ROPME), and NASA Earth Observatory.
Aquacultures & Fisheries
Slowing Down to Save Whales Could Also Cut Shipping Emissions by Hundreds of Tonnes Per Voyage, White Paper Finds

The shipping industry has spent years debating how to cut emissions without overhauling entire fleets or waiting for next-generation fuels that remain decades from commercial viability. A white paper released March 2, 2026, by the Institute of Marine Engineering, Science and Technology (IMarEST) in collaboration with Montreal-based AI company Whale Seeker and True North Marine suggests the answer may already be hiding inside every vessel’s bridge controls: the throttle.
The paper, titled Navigating with Nature: How Smarter Ship Routing Delivers Emissions Cuts and Biodiversity Gains, models a transatlantic route from Montréal, Canada, to Le Havre, France, and integrates ecological sensitivity layers, habitat vulnerability indices, and speed optimization algorithms into the voyage planning process. The results, based on a single route simulation, are striking: modest speed adjustments along the transit could avoid approximately 198 tonnes of CO₂, cut underwater radiated noise exposure by more than 50%, and reduce the risk of a fatal whale strike by up to 86%. The optimized route also yielded fuel savings of 61.7 metric tonnes per crossing.
Those numbers deserve context. A single transatlantic voyage producing nearly 200 fewer tonnes of carbon dioxide is not a rounding error. Multiplied across the thousands of commercial transits that cross the North Atlantic each year, the cumulative reduction potential is enormous, and it requires no new vessel construction, no experimental fuels, and no regulatory overhaul. It requires information and willingness.
The white paper builds on a growing body of research showing that the relationship between vessel speed and whale mortality is not linear; it is exponential. Studies published in Scientific Reports and cited by NOAA Fisheries have consistently demonstrated that the probability of a fatal collision increases dramatically above 10 knots. For the critically endangered North Atlantic right whale, which numbers roughly 380 individuals and is the subject of an ongoing Unusual Mortality Event declared in 2017, vessel strikes remain one of the two leading causes of death alongside fishing gear entanglement. NOAA data shows that 42 right whales have died and 40 have been seriously injured since 2017, with the vast majority of those casualties traced to human interaction.
What the IMarEST paper adds to this picture is an economic case. The conventional framing positions whale protection and commercial efficiency as competing interests: slow your ship to save whales, and you lose time and money. The Navigating with Nature model flips that assumption. By integrating real-time ecological data into route planning, the optimized voyage actually saves fuel. The speed adjustments are not uniform reductions across the entire crossing; they are strategic, applied in areas of high ecological sensitivity where whale density, calving grounds, or migratory corridors overlap with the shipping lane. In lower-risk stretches, the vessel can maintain or even increase speed to compensate, keeping overall transit time within commercially acceptable margins.
“What this case study shows is that smarter speed choices could cut costs and emissions now, while also reducing underwater noise and pressure on ocean biodiversity,” said Emily Charry Tissier, CEO and co-founder of Whale Seeker. Charry Tissier, a biologist with two decades of experience in coastal and Arctic ecosystems, founded the company in 2018 to use AI and aerial detection for marine mammal monitoring. Whale Seeker’s technology has since been deployed with Transport Canada to detect right whales in real time in the St. Lawrence corridor.
The underwater noise dimension is worth pausing on. Chronic noise pollution from shipping is one of the least visible but most pervasive threats to marine mammals. Whales and dolphins rely on sound for communication, navigation, and foraging. Elevated background noise from vessel traffic can mask their vocalizations, disrupt feeding behavior, increase stress hormone levels, and in extreme cases cause physical injury. The International Maritime Organization has recognized underwater noise as a significant environmental concern, but regulatory action remains voluntary and unevenly implemented. A 50% reduction in noise exposure through route and speed optimization, as the white paper models, would represent a meaningful improvement for cetacean populations along one of the world’s busiest shipping corridors.
Alasdair Wishart, IMarEST’s technical and policy director, framed the paper in regulatory terms. “This white paper illustrates how the landscape could look for vessel owners and operators should there be further legislation to protect marine mammals,” he said. The subtext is clear: the shipping industry can either adopt these practices voluntarily and capture the fuel savings, or wait for governments to mandate them and lose the first-mover advantage.
The paper was endorsed by the United Nations Decade of Ocean Science for Sustainable Development and produced through IMarEST’s Marine Mammal Special Interest Group, a technical body composed of experts from academia, industry, policy, and government. Strategic framing was supported by Fürstenberg Maritime Advisory.
It is worth noting what the paper does not claim. This is a case study based on a single simulated route, not a fleet-wide operational trial. Real-world implementation would face challenges including schedule pressures, port congestion, contractual obligations, and variable weather. The authors position the work as a starting point for integrating biodiversity intelligence into routing decisions, not a finished policy prescription.
Still, the fundamental insight is hard to argue with. In an industry under intense pressure to decarbonize, the notion that protecting marine life and reducing fuel costs can be pursued simultaneously, rather than traded against each other, is a compelling proposition. The ocean’s largest animals and the industry’s bottom line, it turns out, may have more aligned interests than decades of regulatory debate have assumed.
Source: IMarEST, Whale Seeker, True North Marine | Published March 2, 2026
White paper: Navigating with Nature: How Smarter Ship Routing Delivers Emissions Cuts and Biodiversity Gains | Available at imarest.org
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We are the largest marine organisation of our kind and the first institute to bring together marine engineers, scientists and technologists into one international multi-disciplinary professional body.
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